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The morning after. Paulina is up. She puts on a shirt she finds on the floor of her bedroom. She lights a cigarette and goes to the kitchen, It was a night of wantonness between us. Sex, cheap wine and vodka, cigarettes, lying in the dark, sweaty and sticky from our pleasures together we talk in the darkness of her bedroom. I suppose we are a bit hungover. I find her as you see her, her hair mussed from the night's activities, smoking, her gaze averted. Did she expose too much of herself in the darkness? I made some strong coffee and hand her a cup, She takes a sip, drops her cigarette in the tray below her, smiles at me as I offer her another and light it. We will, for the moment, simply "be." What happens later? Neither of us know.